


Breathless

by parrotfish_elliot



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: F/F, Italian Food, Takes place in 1980, i still dont know how to tag things, its the marriage proposal no one asked for but everyone needed, lesbians from next door, proposal, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 03:49:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11501157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parrotfish_elliot/pseuds/parrotfish_elliot
Summary: "Although it started as a normal day, they always say it felt like a magical day when asked."





	Breathless

Although it started as a normal day, they always say it felt like a magical day when asked. This, of course, is false. The day started with Cordelia in the kitchen and Charlotte at the table. Cordelia was trying to make French toast (but kept burning her fingers) and Charlotte was just trying to do her job so she didn’t get fired (but her mind was blanking and she was trying to remember where their lighter is to burn all her papers).

If you ask them, they’ll say that the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, their hair was perfect, and their food was good. All lies. It was raining, there aren’t chirping birds in New York, their hair is always a fucking mess before 8, and the food was burnt. Burning French toast is a rather remarkable thing to do, though, so Delia counted it as a win.

They ate their food and went on with their day as if it were any other day. Cordelia had no plans to do it that day, and Charlotte had no plans to do anything after work for the next millennium. 

Even so, they went to their respective jobs after kissing each other goodbye, Charlotte driving east to the hospital and Cordelia walking two blocks south to her bakery/catering job, both humming quietly to themselves (different songs. Cordelia could never get Yellow Submarine out of her head and Charlotte had never wanted to get Dancing Queen out of hers) as they travelled. 

Their days continued as normal- Charlotte saving lives and having to prove her worth over and over again and Cordelia smiling through the pain of multiple burns and someone puking up her attempt at a macaroon.

They got home at their usual times, Cordelia at 4:30 and Charlotte at 5:00, so Delia had already had her chance to look through all their photo albums and fall in love again, for the twelfth time that week. 

By the time Charlotte got home, a decision was already dead set in her lover's mind, unbeknownst to her. She was greeted with a kiss on the cheek and a modest suit thrust into her hands. 

Delia was already dressed, hair curled, makeup on, dress adorned with various colors of glitter, and jewelry shined and draped around her neck.

"Put this on, babe. Also a necklace or something. And brush your hair, please? I love you!" Was the only greeting the doctor got before Cordelia disappeared like a goddamn cryptid again.

"What? What's going on? Delia?" She stood confused in the entryway for about ten more seconds before shrugging and choosing to obey her girlfriend's.... confusing requests. It wasn't the weirdest thing that had been asked of her during their five-year long relationship. 

In less than twenty minutes, Charlotte was all cleaned up and putting on a headband to keep her hair tamed. Cordelia was on the phone, arguing with someone in perfect, aggravating Canadian French. Her mother, then. Charlotte watched her fondly, confused but also far too gay to pass up an opportunity to gaze at the love of her life.

It took another five minutes before Cordelia finally hung up the phone and put on a nice overcoat. Charlotte was still confused but still willing to do anything asked of her.

"How does Italian sound, babe?" Delia asked, which was not really any of the questions Charlotte had been expecting.

"What?"

"We're going on a date, duh. Honestly, you're kind of silly for a doctor," She giggled, and Charlotte couldn't even bring herself to pretend to be mad at the angel in front of her.

She nodded slowly and grabbed her purse and a bag. "Okay, then. Italian sounds lovely, sure." Italian always sounds lovely, but especially under the pretense of a date. 

Cordelia took her hand and happily lead her out of the apartment and to the car, opening the doors for her like a true... gentlewoman. 

Charlotte laughed, already kind of breathless. Her girlfriend never failed to astonish her, no matter the circumstance. They hadn't gone on a proper date in almost three months, what with the added workload of a promotion to the assistant head doctor on Charlotte's side and the admittedly improving and expanding business of Cordelia's Catering. Neither of them blamed the other for the increasingly small amount of time they got to just enjoy the other's presence, but the apparent date that Delia had planned was a much needed break from the hectic and chaotic lifestyle they both subject themselves to.

Charlotte found herself staring at Cordelia again, fully aware that she probably looked like a lovesick teenager, rather than a lovesick almost-thirty-year-old. Delia, to her credit, pretended not to notice. Or just really didn't notice, that's always a possibility that couldn't be ignored, considering how oblivious she had proven herself to be throughout the years.

They didn't speak through the car ride except to make comments on how terrible the traffic is in New York and how that can probably be attributed to the heterosexuals who never seem to be able to drive straight. There was also the occasional "I love you" exchanged as simple reminders. 

Cordelia parked without wrecking the car and Charlotte thanked the God that she doesn't believe in. As amazing as her girlfriend is, she's horrible at parking.

They both stepped out, looking elegant and perfect, and walked to the restaurant. Cordelia's hands were shaking and she kept chewing her lip, the only telltale signs to show her nerves that she had ever displayed. Charlotte didn't notice, she was too shocked by the elegance and glamor of the place she had been taken to. Truly, she wasn't sure their paycheck could afford this.

Rather than voicing these thoughts, though, she watched Cordelia walk up to the counter and ask for a reservation under "DuBois". As usual, it made the doctor smile to hear Cordelia use her last name in reference to herself, or rather, Cordelia. This time felt more important, for some reason, but she couldn't pinpoint why. Perhaps it was the adoring reverence with which her girlfriend said her name. Or perhaps it was something else. She brushed the feeling off, though, and followed Delia and the desk attendant to their table. A table for two in the corner of the room, fitting to their personal preferences. 

It became obvious to Charlotte that that specific night was something special when Cordelia ordered medium priced wine rather than the cheap, weak stuff that they're used to. She did this with a smile which isn't something Charlotte would usually attribute to Cordelia when buying things, but nothing seemed to usual that night. She still couldn't place her finger on why, though.

They made conversation on how their days at the hospital and the bakery went, then on what the best Beatles song is, and then on how good the food is. 

Cordelia had a whole speech planned. She had every word and every second worked out in her head.

That all went out the window when Charlotte said, "I want to marry this pasta," and she responded with, "I want to marry you."

It was a blessing that Charlotte wasn't eating anything at that moment or she would have choked. 

"Really?" Her eyes were wide with easily identifiable hope. Cordelia blushed and ducked her head before pulling a simple ring out from the pocket of her coat. 

"I had a speech prepared and shit, but this works, too. I want to marry you, even if it's not technically legal and it was only just kind of ruled legal to even be gay but we've been together for five fucking years and I want to call you my wife please say yes?" The sentence was rushed and Cordelia was flushed red, but it was perfect.

Charlotte snapped out of her shock-induced stupor and nodded. "I want to call you my wife, too, Delia, of course I'm gonna say yes!" She practically squealed, letting her girlfriend- no, her fiancée put the ring on her finger. It all felt pretty cliche and like nothing, either of them would have honestly expected, but perhaps that's why it was perfect. Charlotte felt breathless for the second time that night, but that time was because Cordelia wanted to take her breath away for the rest of her life just as much as she wants it taken.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: Give The Relationships That Aren't Marvin/Whizzer More Appreciation 
> 
> (my friend Liv (@thatdamntheatrekid) helped with, like, two ideas for this and helped review it before i posted so i give 7% credit to her)


End file.
